by Bella Grant
“Her husband was searching all over for her today. She was probably hiding from him.” Raphael laughed. “The poor man had that look on his face. The one I get when I have to chase your naughty bottom down.”
Victoria felt the heat sweep across her cheeks at his mention of the disciplinary spankings he’d doled out over the past several weeks. Stress brought out the worst in her, and planning and being the bride in a royal wedding of such magnitude brought a lot of stress with it. Although, since the wedding had been over a week ago, she’d been much calmer and hadn’t earned a single moment over his knee. That didn’t stop him from spanking her, though, but the fun torment brought her body to the edge of ecstasy and back every time.
“I’m sure she can handle it. She seemed in good enough spirits this afternoon when she kept tempting me to go out on that damn boat. Why does she enjoy sunbathing so much on that damn thing?”
Raphael let out a loud laugh. “She will never learn. At least she has stopped trying to make me intervene on her behalf.” He shook his head, peeling the shirt from his body and tossing it on the chair.
Would she ever get used to his build? When he pulled the belt from his pants, she stood. There was something he’d not let her do yet, and she wanted to more than anything at that moment. She felt his eyes on her as she moved gracefully across the carpeted floor to him. Placing her hands over his, she stilled his fingers.
“What are you doing, love?” he asked with a coy smile.
“I’m using your body.” She winked and slid her robe from her body, revealing her nakedness to him. She heard his breath catch in his throat, and her clit swelled at the knowledge that her boldness had pleased him.
“Well then. I did say you could do so whenever you liked, but the bed is over there.” He pointed with a finger, over her shoulder.
She shrugged daintily and glided down to her knees. “We won’t be needing it.” She made quick work of pulling down his trousers and his boxers in one swift motion, letting his cock out of its restraint and licking her lips as it bobbed in front of her.
“Victoria—”
Wrapping her hand around the base of his cock, she licked the small bead of moisture at the tip. He was hard for her, had been ready the moment he walked in the room. Before he could utter another word, she took him in her mouth and pushed downward on his dick until her lips met with her hand. Trying to take him even further, she relaxed her throat and swallowed.
He muttered a few curses in his language and grabbed her head by her hair. She felt the sting in her scalp but didn’t care. She began to suck the length of him, kissing the tip and moving downward again. But she was only allowed to control things for a moment before his domineering side revealed itself.
“Hold still, keep your mouth open like that, yes. Just… fuck… Victoria…” He began thrusting his cock into her mouth and further down her throat. When she gagged, he pulled back but did not let her pull away. Once she recovered, he pushed forward again, fucking her throat. She felt his dick thicken on her tongue, felt his leg muscles tense beneath her hands, and knew he was close. “Such a good wife,” he growled and felt the spasm of his shaft just before the hot stream of cum shot onto her tongue and slid down her throat. He held still, gripping her hair as he let his orgasm take control of him until it eased his muscles.
When he released her hair, she pulled back, licking her lips with a wry smile as she looked up at him. His eyes were heavy, and his mouth opened as he took in quick deep breaths. “Feel better now?” she asked, still on her knees.
He helped her rise and scooped her up in his arms, not speaking as he took her to the bed and tossed her onto the large mattress. The bed gave under his weight when he climbed onto it, nestling himself between her thighs. He shoved her legs open and pushed them back to her chest. “Hold these open. Do not let go of your legs or I’ll slap you before I bind you.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat?” She laughed. He gave her pussy a harsh slap, and she laughed harder.
“Pretend I’m in control here.” He winked and waited until she was in position before he leaned down and began to lick her folds. “So wet for me,” he murmured into her sex, his tongue dancing over her clit and two fingers toying with her entrance.
“Please, Rafe, no teasing,” she whispered. She needed him desperately. Having waited all day for him to come to her so she could complete her plans for him had left her wet and wanting.
“Such good manners.” He smiled and sucked her clit into his mouth as he drove two fingers into her.
“Oh!” She clenched her eyes shut, letting the electricity of his tongue and fingers take her away. Before long, her lungs burned from her deep breaths, and her body felt as tight as a violin string. “Please… please… I have to…” She didn’t care that she was begging. She’d beg him every time because every time, he would throw her over the edge of paradise, only to catch her on the other side.
“Come, wife. Come now,” he ordered in his sternest voice.
Nothing else needed be said. Her body obeyed him as though he was its owner, and in many ways, he was. The internal explosion made her scream as the heavy waves hit her, carrying her over the edge. His fingers didn’t slow. They curved and stroked the upper walls of her cunt, dragging her orgasm out even longer. “Raphael! Raphael!” She chanted his name over and over again, until her orgasm finally began to calm and she floated back to reality.
She dropped her knees and rolled her head to the side, feeling his kisses on her thighs but making no move to close her legs. “My girl is wiped out.” He laughed, crawling up beside her and pulling her into his arms.
“I think I exhausted myself fantasizing about you coming home.” She giggled into his chest.
“You still haven’t told me all of your fantasies.” He pinched her hip. “But if they are anything like tonight, I don’t think I’ll mind being surprised.”
She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. Home. He was home to her. They would travel the world, spend time in his country estate, in New York when needed, but as long as he slept beside her, holding her through the night, they were home.
***
*** If you haven’t read “BAD BOY MONEY”, here’s a free copy for you! ***
BONUS NOVEL #1
BAD BOY MONEY
(A Billionaire BAD BOY Romance)
By
Bella Grant
Copyright (c) 2016. All Rights Reserved
Find all my steamy books at
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SARA
The day I received the invitation to the Saunders Empire private ball started off as an ordinary day. I woke up as usual at six in the morning, made it to my job as a barista in a local coffee shop, ate my brown-bag lunch, made small talk with customers I couldn't really stand, returned to my tiny apartment to a sink filled with dirty plates, ordered my usual Chinese combination fried rice, and went through my mail.
As I sat eating my greasy dinner, I lazily glanced through the mail. Bills - people I owe and people who expect money from me, a couple of spam mails, and my Fashionette magazine, which came with a big pink sticker reminding me for the hundredth time that my subscription was ending and I could renew for a big discount. I tossed the magazine on a pile of magazines, and as I did, a golden envelope fell out from between the pages.
I cast a lazy glance at the envelope, trying to decide if I should get up from my cozy seat to pick it up or if I could do that the next day. Laziness got the better of me; if it was a bill, I couldn’t afford to pay it until I got my next pay check in two weeks, so what was the point of opening it?
I grabbed the remote control and flipped through several channels until I found some dumb horror movie - the one where a group of teenagers explore a haunted house and someone takes off to find out where a strange noise is coming from and inevitably gets killed. And of course, another teen followed to see if he's okay, and while the rest of them clamor together in one room, that teen is pred
ictably killed. Slowly, they all disappeared until only one person escaped the house.
Around nine, I'd had enough of the crappy movie, so I decided to turn in for the night. I stepped over that golden envelope lying on the floor; my eyes darted to the return address. Saunders Empire. I picked up the envelope and opened it as I walked to my bedroom. The envelope and the paper it contained were certainly worth more than a day’s salary. It was rich and soft, and on the top was the monogram Saunders Empire. On the front was my name and address: Sara Nolles, 1245 North Main Street.
Saunders Empire caused a loud bell to ring in my head. I had interned for one of the branches as an undergrad, but only briefly. I had applied for a job right after graduation, but they had kindly replied, in an envelope not as fancy as this one, that I was underqualified for the positions available, and they would contact me when a position I was qualified for opened.
I flipped the envelope over; it was sealed with a gold embossed wax in the shape of the Saunders Empires logo. Fancy, I smirked as I carefully broke the seal, my heart beating wildly. I hoped they had changed their minds and were offering me a job. I would certainly swallow my pride, dust off my bruised ego, and accept the job without question. I pulled a card out of the envelope.
What caught my eyes first was the gold lettering and gold borders on the card. The gold was probably real gold. My eyes focused on the words on the card.
Dear Ms. Sara Nolles,
It is my pleasure to invite you to the Saunders Empire private annual ball. As you are aware, this is an event for the most elite men and women in our country.
I enjoyed your company last time we met and hope you will join me again.
Your invitation package will be delivered within the next twenty hours. We eagerly await your response.
Sincerely,
Nick Saunders
I read the card over and over again, wondering what I was missing. Then I started picking apart the phrases. They must have made a mistake. For all the money and resources Saunders Empire had, they couldn't keep their guest list correct? Yeah, granted I had interned there, but how did I end up on their guest list? Did someone who knew me when I was there include me on the list?
Me, a part of the elite group of men and women? Elite men and women! Is that a joke? I can't even get a job with an elite man or woman, whatever the heck elite meant. I imagined elite meant "rich and stuck up," men who listed "playboy" as a hobby and women who hired maids to brush their hair and apply their makeup. This had to be a case of mistaken identity. Perhaps there was a Sara Nolles somewhere on their guest list and our names and address had crossed.
And what the heck did he mean by he had enjoyed my company? What exactly did the real Sara Nolles do for him? I only saw Nick Saunders once during my internship, and he had been presenting to a room full of his employees. He would never have noticed me tucked all the way in the back, and even if he had noticed me, I prided myself on not being the type of woman playboys like him dated – rich, skinny, obnoxious women. Nick’s reputation for having an insatiable appetite for women preceded him, and I did not want to be on his list.
I read the card again as I walked to my bed. I would call the next day and inform the company of their error. I was not elite, and the card was certainly not for this Sara Nolles.
NICK
Nick stared at the picture of the woman who had remained in his mind since the day she had served him coffee at a downtown coffee shop. She had looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place where they had met because he knew nothing would have stopped him from making a move on her whenever they met.
She was one of those women he hated to admit were irresistible, the type he hated because they were too proud to admit their need of him and made the chase too hard. He had his private detective scoop her out once he’d left the coffee shop, and it hadn’t been hard to pin her down. Within hours, he knew everything he needed to know about her, including the fact that she had interned with him years ago. How had he missed her? So unlike him to let someone who looked like that get away without getting her into his infamous bed.
He flipped the pages of her file, re-reading her life for the millionth time. She had just been dumped by her boyfriend of four years and lived downtown in a dingy apartment. He had to get to her. Initially, he had planned to approach her straight, but he knew a woman like that was not one to be approached without a plan. Then he thought about using her friend to get to her, but that was cliché. Who still talked to girls through their friends? That was so last century.
He looked at her picture again, letting himself drown in her hazel eyes. Really pretty, definitely sexy face –a woman who stood out from all the girls he had dated– long, black, luscious curls that he wanted to get his hands into, lips so succulent he could only imagine kissing them until she moaned his name, and an attitude bigger than her delicate though curvy frame. She had to be his. No other way around it.
When she had served him coffee without an ounce of recognition, he knew she was going to be hard to get.
“Hello, welcome to Pixies,” she had said. “How may I help you?”
“Coffee.”
“What type of coffee, sir? We have several different varieties.” Her hazel eyes had stared into his, and in that moment, there had been an instant attraction. Her eyes never left his gaze, and he was not one to back down from a woman.
“What would you recommend?” he asked, momentarily forgetting that he only drank dark espresso.
“Well, how do you like your coffee? Sweet, strong, dark?” she asked, her gaze still on him.
Sweet would be awesome, he thought. Sweet like her lips? His eyes had moved to her lips but found their way back to her eyes. She was certainly beautiful, and if he had to guess her age, maybe twenty-three? Twenty-five? Maybe she was too young for his thirty years of age. He should probably back down while he could.
“I’ll take whatever you recommend,” he had told her and hoped he didn’t regret it. It was only coffee, after all. No harm could be done.
“Sure. You look like someone who likes it dark and strong,” she said, a faint smile curving her lips.
Nick looked at her, trying to determine if she was serious. From the glint in her eyes, he could tell she was teasing him. This would have been the perfect time to invite her to dinner or coffee or whatever, but he didn’t do it. She would turn him down. She looked like one of those women who liked the thrill of being chased but never really gave in to a man. He didn’t want to give her the upper hand, at least not yet.
“Very perceptive,” he had replied, smiling at her.
“No, just served enough coffee to know what my customers might like,” she said flatly.
Sharp tongue, certainly; she had a smart mouth. “So how did you guess I like it dark and strong?” He could have turned on the charm and gotten her to his side, but she didn’t look at all interested in him.
“Your watch. A man’s watch says a lot about him.”
He looked at his Rolex. Damn. She was indeed cautious. “Oh yeah?”
“Yes. I can tell you like it dark and strong, because you’re sort of the bossy type.”
“You’re right again,” he had told her but didn’t justify himself. Yes, he liked his coffee strong, and he could be quite bossy. Demanding was the word his closest staff used. Yes, he could be demanding and pushy, but that had shaped him into one of the most powerful and richest men in the country. He had no apologies for that. If anything, it was his privilege.
When she returned with his coffee, she had asked with a faint smile on her face, “Is that all you’ll be wanting today, sir? May I get you a bagel, perhaps?”
He had been taken aback by her calling him sir, but when he looked at her, she was still smiling, teasing. “Not today, thanks. But may I invite you to dinner?”
She didn’t hesitate with her answer. “I don’t date customers.”
“How about I don’t buy the coffee. Then I won’t be a customer,” Nick had joked, but the jo
ke didn’t go down well.
“No, sir. Not interested. Here’s your coffee.” She had almost pushed the coffee into his hands. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s a line behind you.”
Nick didn’t look behind him. What did it matter? The world usually waited on him hand and foot, and the line behind him was no exception to the rule. He smiled at her again and handed her a twenty, but she rejected it.
“It’s on the house. But please don’t ask me out again. The answer will always be no,” she had informed him before waving him off so she could help the next customer.
Nick had gone to the side of the café to nurse his drink and his pride. How dare she dismiss him? Did she not have a clue who he was? In situations where he felt slighted, he would have usually told off the girl and stormed out. Childish, yes, but being rich meant he could get away with some dumb shit sometimes. This time, though, he had wanted the girl and would swallow his pride to get her into his bed, even if only once.
He had not felt the need to inform her who he was but had quietly sat in the corner of the café and watched her until it became rude. She never gave him a second glance, but within that short span of time as he observed her, he had learned so much about her, more than the private detective could ever tell him. He saw the way she brushed a loose stand of hair out of her face again and again. That alone told him she was a little messy and rather quick-witted; otherwise she would simply redo her ponytail.
